Saints and Sinners
by Shandy777
Summary: Saints Ville is full of secrets, as are its inhabitants. Multi-couple story, featuring Het and Slash. This is a soap opera-like story, so the pairings will continuously change.
1. Conflicted

_I don't know why I'm even doing this, but I've wanted to write a soap opera-like story, so I'm giving it a go! I have no idea where I'm going with it, but hey, does anyone know where any soap opera is going? _

_ Please review and let me know what you all think! Reviews are very much appreciated._

* * *

><p>~ <span>Chapter 1 – Conflicted<span> ~

* * *

><p><em> Family was important. That was just common knowledge, something that goes without saying. When someone in your family is in need of help, no one really thinks – they just immediately jump into action, doing whatever they can to help out and make things better. But what if … what if your family is completely screwed up with no possible chance of fixing? What if your family is just so dysfunctional, it's hard to think of anything that'll help, especially when someone isn't doing the right thing? What do you do then?<em>

-x- -x- -x- -x- -x-

Dr. Randy Orton was not a happy person as he made his way down the hallway, his shoes hitting the tiled floor the only sound that echoed against the walls. He had an arm wrapped around his chest, holding something close to him, but hidden, concealed under the long, white, doctor's coat he wore. His hand gripped the old metal door and pushed it open, the force knocking it back, a loud clanking noise ringing out into the otherwise quiet hospital. After going down several flights of stairs, the doctor found himself in the boiler room, the place several degrees hotter than up in the actual hospital.

Of course, Ted DiBiase Jr. wouldn't see his brother up there.

The boiler room was once the old part of the hospital before renovations were made deciding instead to just build more space instead of fixing what was already broken. The space was now used for storage or, in Ted's case, something else altogether. . Randy took a left at the corridor and walked straight forward, knowing his younger brother would be waiting in the doors ahead. And he was right. Sitting on an old table was Ted DiBiase Jr., hunched over, his left arm wrapped around his right. He was dirty – dirt and grime stained his face while his clothes looked like they were about ready to fall from his body. Without saying a word to his brother – not that Ted was about to start the conversation after catching the look on the doctor's face – Randy pulled out what was concealed under his doctor's coat and slammed it down on the tray.

Sighing, Ted sat up a little straighter, wincing at the toll that simple movement caused his body. He had a rough night and the only thing he wanted to do – besides getting cleaned up – was to get in bed and sleep the pain away. "Look, Randy … I'm sorry for getting you involved, man. I know you don't want anything to do with any of this."

"You're not sorry," Randy said plainly, his voice full of pent up anger, though the tone was at a decent level. "If you were sorry then you wouldn't have come, but you did, because you don't think I have the guts to turn you into the police."

Opening the first-aid kit he brought, Orton pulled out a pair of tweezers and some peroxide. Walking over to his brother, Randy shoved the bottle of peroxide into Ted's chest and jerked his sleeve up, revealing the bullet wound that damaged his tanned skin. After muttering a quick _be still_, the doctor pushed the tweezers into the small hole, feeling Ted tense and stiffen under the pain. A part of him was glad. After all, he had been causing a lot of problems for not only him, but for a lot of people. It was time for Ted DiBiase Jr. to get a taste of his own medicine, to see how it felt like to get played, to get screwed. Still … Ted was Randy's brother and no matter how annoying and stupid the kid got, Orton knew that saying no, turning his back on his family … it was easier said than done. After locating the bullet, Randy eased it out, walking over to the trashcan and dumping it before grabbing the peroxide Ted was still holding, unscrewing the bottle. After pouring a generous amount on some cotton balls, Randy pressed it against and around the wound, cleaning it from infection.

"What did you get yourself into this time?" Randy finally asked his eyes locked on the wound before him, not at his brother who turned to stare at him. "Did you rob, kill, rape, someone?"

"I didn't rape anyone," Ted replied, shaking his head before looking back down at his feet. He had run through mud, which was why they were dirty looking. He landed in mud, too, when he dropped from a second story window in an attempt to get away from an enemy. "As for the rest … they got what was coming to them."

Randy slammed down the bottle of peroxide, some of the contents spilling out, but the doctor didn't give a damn. The last thing on his mind at that moment was the peroxide. Clenching his jaw, Orton walked over to the towel he brought, as well as a roll of bandages. Grabbing the two, he walked back over to where he was standing, shoving the towel at Ted.

"Hold it against the wound."

After staring warily at Orton, Ted lifted his left arm, placing the towel against his wound. He had lost a lot of blood on the way over to the Saints Hospital, which was one of the contributing factors to his tired, dizzy state, but he ignored it, pushing it to the side. He could only deal with one problem at a time. "Look, Randy-"

"So you shot someone," It wasn't a question, but a statement. As much as Orton hoped that Ted hadn't, deep down, he knew that there was a lot about his younger brother that he had no idea about. "Did you kill them?"

Ted was silent for a moment, his eyes taking a faraway appearance as he pressed the towel against his arm, trying to stop the blooding long enough for Randy to patch him up. He knew that Randy didn't approve of what he was doing. Hell, everyone who knew him outside of what he did, didn't approve. Business was business, though … as was the money. "Yeah … he's dead."

Slamming his fist down on the tray, sending the last of the peroxide toppling over, Randy shook his head, his fists clenching into tight fists as he closed his eyes, the hate for his brother just welling up to the point where he honestly felt like killing _him_.

"What the fuck happened to you?" He finally demanded, his icy stare turning on his brother. Not only was he angry, but he was confused. He had absolutely no idea how such a sweet kid like Ted could turn into someone so cold, so heartless. "What could have possibly happened to make you into such a monster? I mean, how could you?"

"What do you expect, Randy, huh? I'm in the fucking mob! Killing people, is what I do!"

"No! How in the fuck are you able to live with yourself after doing something like that! How can you look in the mirror and be okay with this! You're taking a life! It doesn't matter what they did! It's wrong!"

"I don't need this," Ted said, shaking his head. "I came here to get patched up, not get the same lecture I get every time I see you. Just finish it up and I'll get the fuck out of here."

"And that's another thing! You have the audacity of calling me and telling me that you need my help every single time something like this happens to you and you don't even thank me for it! I give you pain medication, I make sure you don't get a fucking infection! I could lose my license for helping you like this and not reporting it!"

"Yeah, well, I don't want to go to jail and I'm sure you don't want to be unemployed, so just drop it!" Ted snapped, his cerulean eyes locking on icy pale ones. He didn't want to get into it at the moment. The same damn thing happened every single time they had to communicate to one another and DiBiase was just sick of it.

Randy glared at him, unable to believe that _this_ person was actually his brother. It didn't seem real and he didn't like it one bit. Shaking his head, Orton grabbed the bandages and stormed back over to Ted, grabbing his bad arm and positioning it so he could work, secretly enjoying the hiss of pain that elicited from his assault. He started rolling the bandage around his arm after cleaning it once again.

"This is the last time, Ted," He said, his eyes locked on the wound. His voice wasn't as harsh and angry as it was before. Instead, it was neutral, tired almost. "Don't call me, don't text me when you get yourself shot up again. Don't call, begging for me to pick you up when you're lying in the gutter somewhere. I'm done with this."

"For fucks sake, Randy, we both know you don't mean that shit," Ted rolled his eyes, his patience slowly fading. "Just cool the fuck down and-"

"No, just …" Randy tightened the bandage and walked over to this first-aid kit, putting everything back inside before closing it up and motioning to a change of clothes he brought down for Ted, as well. "Just take a shower, get changed, get out of here, and forget my number."

Picking up the first-aid kit, Randy turned around without giving Ted a second glance and walked out of the room they were in, leaving Ted behind, who simply watched his brother go.

* * *

><p>Slouching back in his seat, a cold bear in his hand, John Cena had no idea what to do. He never thought he could feel something so painful, never thought something could make him want to go numb, to lose all sense of feeling. He wanted to just curl up and die, to be forgotten, to <em>forget<em>.

That, of course, was only half of what he was feeling. Besides the dreadfully miserable hole in his chest, John just couldn't believe something like _that_ had happened to him. He was a good person – donating money to as many charities as he could, holding doors open, smiling and speaking kindly to people – so he didn't understand why that had to happen to him. He was a police officer, too! He put his life on the line every single day. But only after all of these thoughts did it finally register.

Bad things happen to good people. Life was cold and unfair and it didn't give a damn who it decided to screw, so long as someone paid.

Bringing the beer bottle to his lips, John took a generous gulp, the sound of boxes being moved around, random things being slammed down ringing in his ears. He didn't do anything to stop it, though. He just didn't care anymore. Only when the sound of heels pounding into the hardwood floor did John turn and look up, seeing his ex-fiancée storm into the living room, a good sized box in her arms.

"Okay, I think that's most of my things," Rosa Mendes said, her honey brown eyes sweeping over the room, trying to see if she missed anything. When nothing stood out, Rosa turned her attention back to John, her head shaking from side to side at the state of him. "I'll come by tomorrow to get the rest of my things. I won't be able to put all of it in my car," The Latina's eyes followed John as he stood from the couch, heading for the kitchen, probably to get yet another bottle of beer. Shaking her head once more, Rosa continued. "I'll bring Alberto with me, so-"

The Latina was immediately cut off when the empty beer bottle in John's hand was hurled at the opposite wall, shattering into many pieces while John whirled around, his sapphire eyes blazing as he finally turned and acknowledged Rosa. He raised a muscled arm, his thick finger pointed towards the door, though his eyes never left hers.

"That son of a fucking bitch is not setting one foot in this goddamn house!"

"What?" Rosa snorted, her eyes rolling as she shrugged off what John said. "He's coming. How else will I get my big furniture out of here?"

"I don't care!" John carried on, his voice rising even more. Just the thought of that fucker being in his house, his thick, heavy cologne tainting his air was enough to make John want to hurt someone. "I don't care how you get your shit out of here! Move it yourself, drag it out, call some fucking movers, it doesn't matter! Just keep that fucking prick out of my house, Rosa, or I swear to God, I will kill him!"

John didn't know if he was serious or not – after all, the thought of killing the man who ruined his life and destroyed his future was awfully tempting – but Rosa didn't seem to think so. She merely laughed and put her hands on her hips – an act John once loved, but now hated – her brown eyes staring at Cena with an incredulous look on her face, as if she were wondering how in the hell she ever got involved with someone like John Cena.

"You won't even be home when I come over here, so why is Alberto coming over here so hard for you to deal with? You won't even see him!" Rosa exclaimed, throwing her arms in the air. "Besides, I don't need your permission. If I want him to come then he will. This is _our_ house."

"But _you_ are moving out," John countered, his voice angry. After a moment, though, he took a deep breath, trying to simmer down. After all, he was trying to sway her. He lifted a meaty hand, rubbing his eyes tiredly, warily. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, much gentler than it was before. "You don't want to be with me anymore and that's fine. You don't want to marry me and that's fine. You wanted a clean break, that's fine. You can take whatever you want in this house. Saints Ville is a small town. I'll have to see him constantly while I'm working, on a daily basis. All I ask is that you keep my home, my safe haven, free of him."

Rosa shook her head for the umpteenth time that day as she leaned against the back of the couch, her arms coming to rest of the back. She stared at John, seeing the tired, dreary look in his eyes – eyes she once was head over heels in love with. She could remember being so happy whenever he was around her, as though she were flying and he was the safest place to land. Those times changed, though, and even though a part of her was sad that she was leaving John behind in such a state, the bigger, more dominant part of her was happy, because she had finally found someone who would actually take the time to take care of her, to love her in a way John couldn't.

"You brought this on yourself, you know," She finally said, her own voice softer than it was before. "When you said you wanted to be a cop, I was supportive. I pushed you and I did all that I could to show you how proud I was. When you finally were promoted and joined the force, I was ecstatic for you, because I knew that that was what you wanted. But then you became obsessed with it. Those eight hour shifts soon turned into twelve, sometimes fourteen hour shifts," She stood up and walked over to the fireplace, where pictures of her and John adorned the mantel. Those two people were happy, they were in love. It was hard to believe that they could have drifted so far apart, but there they were, separating for good. "I tried to wait up for you, but you hardly ever came home anymore. I learned to not expect you anymore. I learned to live without you. Alberto actually takes the time to be with me. That's something you never did. I fell out of love for you and you're the reason. You're to blame."

Pulling her gaze from John, Rosa walked over to the box she put down and picked it back up, heading towards the door, but not before throwing one more quip at him, that snootiness back in her voice. "And you can forget about your little safe haven, because Alberto's been here at least five times."

The door closed, leaving John alone in the huge, empty house. His face completely devoid of emotion, he turned around and made his way back into the kitchen where he opened the fridge and pulled out another bottle of beer. He walked over to the couch and sank back down, his eyes faraway as he opened the bottle and took a drink.

* * *

><p>Opening his suitcase, Evan sighed warily as he pushed out various articles of clothing, his thoughts heavy on what had just happened. The type of weather of the day reflected his mood – dark and depressing. The Sinners Motel – where Evan Bourne now resided – was a pretty ironic name, though he was a victim of the repercussions, not the acting participant who was now nameless to the smaller man. After everything he had dealt with in the past concerning that nameless man, properly identifying him would shatter the wall he desperately had built.<p>

The chances to change his ways were endless. What he had seen was not the first time, though it truly felt like it every single time. Even after witnessing such a scene, Evan found himself forgiving him, his kind heart willing to forget the brutal blow simply because he was afraid to be alone. Not that time, though. No, Evan wasn't going to give in, to allow his heart to be the deciding factour instead of his head. He was tired of the pain and he was tired of the disrespect. Any man was better than the nameless one that enjoyed playing with his thoughts and feelings, with his heart. Many friends have told him in the past how soft and thoughtful he was and, even though it was an excellent quality to possess, it would get him in trouble. He never thought they would be right, but they were certainly this time.

Taking a deep breath, Evan sank onto the bed, the shirt and jeans in his hands completely forgotten now that his mind dwelled on the infidelity that was his lover's favourite sin. The man – the nameless one – was so kind to him, seemingly interested in just about everything he said or did. Evan thought he was perfect in that respect, thought that his nameless man knew just what to do to make his boy happy … obviously not, not after what he found himself walking into countless amounts of times. He hated thinking about it, hated letting his mind wander to that place, hated letting his mind create little pictures that had been permanently sealed into subconscious. Shaking his head, Bourne walked into the bathroom with the jeans and shirt in his hand and tossed them on the counter, while he turned and climbed into the shower. Turning the hot water on, Evan closed his eyes and bowed his head, hoping the steamy hot shower would relinquish some of the hold his nameless lover had on him, even though he was many miles away now.

Thankfully, it did work for a little bit. The hot water rolling down his body felt so good, Evan put everything he had in concentrating on that simple thing – how the droplets of water rolled down his skin, how the heat made him shiver in delight, how the steam that rose felt so warm and inviting that he didn't want to leave at all. Only he had to. Finding the crappiest and farthest motel that he could, Evan knew that having shitty water was going to be a given. With great reluctance, the small man turned off the water and grabbed a towel, dabbing himself dry before stepping out of the shower, the cold air hitting his skin, goosebumps immediately flaring across his beautifully tanned skin. After drying off, Evan grabbed his jeans and shirt and quickly put them on before opening the door and stopping dead in his tracks, shocked at what he found – or rather who – sitting on his bed.

Phillip Brooks.

No one really expecting someone like Evan to ever get involved with someone like Phillip Brooks, but almost immediately, they could tell that the pair had something special, something that many searched for, but rarely ever found. The two latched onto each other almost instantly, both finding the immediate comfort that came whenever they were together warm and pleasant, something they hated being apart from. Something changed inside of Phillip, though, something dark and domineering that left Evan feeling both confused and alarming.

"Phil … what … what are you doing here?" Evan squeaked, completely shocked that the once nameless man was actually there, sitting on his bed looking as casual as ever, as though they had gone to the motel together. "How did you find me?"

"I know you, Evan," Phil purred, his green eyes locking on Evan's, a smile creeping across his face. "It's not that hard to figure out."

Shifting from foot to foot, Evan fumbled with his hands as he stared at Phil, wondering just what to do and how to progress from where they were at. He had left because of what happened, because of what he walked into _their_ bedroom to see. There was no reason why he should feel nervous and uncomfortable. If anything, Phil should be begging to come back, for Evan to give him yet another chance to make their love work. Phil didn't do that, though. He simply stared at him, those dark green eyes penetrating straight through him. It was as though he was being examined by scientists and it wasn't at all comfortable.

"You never answered my first question," Evan finally said, his voice shaky some, but he did his best to keep it as confident as possible. Phillip was like a shark – if he smelt blood in the water than he was going straight for the source. "What are you doing here?"

"I've come to bring you home, Evan. You don't belong in this shitty motel room. You belong with me, in our apartment," Phil said, slowly standing up from the bed he was sitting on, his green eyes staring intently at the smaller man. "I want you to come home."

"Yeah, well, I don't want to come home, especially since our safe place isn't sacred anymore. I'm tired of this, Phil. I'm just done. You don't respect me, you don't care about me, and that shows with all the people you keep bringing home."

"They mean nothing to me, Evan. You do. I … I'm human, I make mistakes," Phil said, his eyes glistening with so much regret, it was a wonder Evan had been able to resist him for so long. "But out of all the mistakes I've made, you were the only _right_ thing in my life. I need you, baby, more than you could possibly know. Please … please find it in your beautiful heart to forgive me this one more time … please; I'll never hurt you again."

Sighing, Evan closed his eyes and rubbed his tired eyes, his mind going a million miles a minute, getting pulled into so many directions. He was just so tired of having to deal with the infidelity, of having to pick up the pieces of his heart, only to go back to the man for the entire process to repeat. That's all they were – just one repetitive cycle that only left him bruised and broken when it was all said and done. He just didn't want to do it anymore … but then there was Phil … there was their past and the memories that they shared and cherished together. Evan could remember the love they shared when they first got together, how their eyes lit up no matter how many times they saw each other.

"Okay," He finally said his voice low as he frowned, staring at Phil with those beautiful chocolate brown eyes of his. He didn't move away when Phil walked over to him, pulling Evan into his arms in a warm embrace – one he found himself melting into. Sighing, Bourne wrapped his arms around his lover, hiding his face in the crook of his neck, hating himself for not being strong, for not being able to say no when he already knew what would happen. "Please don't break my heart again, Phil. Please, don't …"

Phil smiled softly, running his hand up and down Evan's back soothingly. "I won't, Ev. I promise."

* * *

><p><em> What did you guys think? Which section did you like the best? <em>


	2. Scarred

_ Thanks – __**cenarko1986**__, __**Breaking-Asylum**__, __**FansofCenaton**__, __**TheBlackerTheBerry**__, __**Bravada**__, and __**The Scurvied One**__!_

_ The reviews are so uplifting, guys, so please keep them coming! And I would seriously love you guys even more if you'd send this around and help me get some more reviews!_

* * *

><p>~ <span>Chapter 2 – Scarred<span> ~

* * *

><p><em> So many things can go wrong in just one instant then everything else around you suddenly starts falling apart with no sense of stopping. Just like dominoes, it's constantly one thing after the other, each fall getting all the worse. What happens when there is nothing left to fall? What happens when the storm passes and all you're left with is the wreckage? What's left is a feeling of anxiety and trepidation, of torment and distress, of pain and suffering. What is left is emptiness, a huge hole in the center of your chest that slowly beats, because with each thump, the pain excels, slowly torturing until there is nothing left to feed off of anymore.<em>

-x- -x- -x- -x- -x-

Justin Gabriel smiled warily at the nurse as she walked by, a clipboard in her hand. With one hand stuffed in his pocket, the other held a small bouquet of red roses that might have seemed bright to everyone else, but to the South African, they were anything but. His body was tense as he made his way closer to _the_ room, the destination that he traveled almost every single day since _that_ day. He didn't like thinking about it too much, but sometimes it just got too hard to ignore, too strong to resist. Justin turned down the hallway and walked to the very end before stopping, his eyes peering into Room 618 – his destination.

She was beautiful even if she was lying in bed strapped to numerous amounts of machines. Her features were fair, soft, almost as though she were an angel – or, at least that's what the first thought came to mind when Justin first laid eyes on her. Her arms were placed gracefully on her lap while her eyes remained shut; her countenance peaceful. It was only until he heard the sound of pages being turned did Justin finally realized that he wasn't the only one in the room. He turned to find the source of the noise. The South African let out a small sigh as he made his way to him, knowing that it was time for yet another disappointing update.

Doctor Randy Orton glanced up at the sound of Justin entering the room, a sad smile marring his perfect face as he glanced at the roses in the smaller man's hand. He felt sorry; especially after hearing what the police had said happened. The guilt the poor guy was feeling was probably eating him up slowly inside, which would definitely explain why he looked as though he hadn't slept in days. Putting the clipboard on the tray that was stationed beside the bed, Randy leaned against the wall and stared at Justin, getting himself comfortable for their short chat before getting to the news.

"How are you today, Justin?" The doctor asked, hoping that he sounded a bit more pleasant than he was really feeling.

Oh, how Justin was so utterly tired of hearing that question – _How are you?_ The first few days were the hardest for him, but after hearing that constant question, Justin felt as though he were about to lose it completely. How did they think he was! He was the reason she was lying in that bed! He almost ended her life! Eve Torres – the woman's name he found out shortly after she was out of the ER – was in bed and had been for over two weeks now, her body bruised and broken because of him. She was as good as dead, if Justin was being honest with himself. She hadn't moved in so long, hadn't opened her eyes … said a single word. The guilt was eating him up inside, tearing at his walls, breaking him down. This woman was just an innocent person that was at the wrong place, wrong time. So, to answer the doctor's question, he wasn't doing well at all.

"I'm doing alright," Justin replied, nodding his head back to the doctor. "And you? How are you?"

Randy chuckled softly under his breath, his icy eyes narrowing some before he shrugged his shoulders, giving the South African a friendly smile, though he revealed nothing. "I could be better."

Justin nodded his head again and gave a friendly smile, his eyes once again traveling over to the woman in the hospital bed, looking like a sleeping beauty than someone who was in a car accident … one that he caused. He could remember jogging down the road; his i-Pod was blaring out one of his favourite songs which made his heart beat faster, pumping up his energy. The South African could remember wanted to quickly get home, after all, he had been running for at least six miles and, even though he felt pumped and ready to take on another six miles, he knew that he needed to get home. His girlfriend would be coming home after a long business trip and he wanted to surprise her with her favourite meal.

He didn't notice the car, which he should have. It was coming right for him, but he was too wrapped up in his own thoughts to really take notice in the vehicle coming right for him that was going at least fifty miles an hour. His apartment complex was down the road to the left, maybe about two or three blocks down. Justin was never one for directions. His friends often teased him about that, needing to see actual landmarks instead of naming off the streets. Regardless of that, the huge billboard with _Copeland's Real Estate_ was written in elegant letters was where his apartment was at, his bedroom window getting to take in that lovely view every day. Justin had immediately went off the sidewalk and started running across the road, only then noticing the car when the horn sounded over the loud music pounding through his ears.

As the South African stared at the sleeping beauty, he couldn't help the images that flashed through his mind, the shock in his eyes and the fear in hers as she jerked the wheel in an attempt to avoid hitting him. He could hear the metal bending as her car slammed into the tree, he could see her head snapping forward before snapping back … could see her going limp.

Shaking his head, Justin's eyes focused back on the doctor who was staring at him with a blank expression, though his eyes were seeing something else as those icy orbs watched him. "How is she doing? Is there any change?"

Randy didn't say anything for a moment, only stared at the man who returned to the hospital every single day for the past two weeks to check up on the patient. He sighed and cut his eyes to the clipboard that was sitting on the tray, his eyes scanning over the information that had been puzzling since day six.

"There's no change in her comatose state. Her vitals are getting better, which means her body is healing and fighting, but she hasn't woken up yet."

Justin slowly nodded his head, processing what the doctor had just said. She was fighting, which was very, very good. Her vital were getting better, which meant she was getting strong, which also meant she would be able to wake up when she was able to … right? Looking up at the doctor, seeing the look on his face, it just sent his hope crashing down.

"But …?"

"I …" Randy bit his bottom lip and furrowed his brows, trying to come up with the right choice of words he wanted to use. "I don't want you to not hope since you obviously care about this woman, but … she's not in a coma, Justin, she's only asleep. She can hear us and she can sense what's going on around, but she just won't wake up."

"What does that mean?" Justin asked, his heart pounding in his chest, his eyes wide with shock and misunderstanding. "Why won't she wake up?"

"I wish I had that answer, but I don't. All I know is that if she isn't awake now … I just don't see her waking up later on."

After giving an apology and a goodbye, the doctor walked out of the room to give the South African his time alone with the woman. His mind was swimming with questions, all seeming to be bigger than the rest. What if she never woke up, what if he never had the opportunity to say how sorry he was for causing her so much pain? What if he never got to see the shade of her eyes or hear how glorious her voice must sound like opposed to what the version in his head sounded? What then …

* * *

><p>She might not have known a lot about Saints, but Maria Kannellis was all too familiar about the Saints Public Park. She knew the second she laid eyes on it that that was going to be her regular spot, knew that she could lose herself in the majestic wonders of that haven. And she could do it, too. Entering those ominous gates, jogging at a moderate pace, Maria felt her resolve and worry diminish, her thoughts evening out until all she could think about was the beauty of the park and how safe she felt in the seclusion of the trees.<p>

Even though Maria was on her way to meet her only friend – the secret call saying that the meet was both important and urgent – the beautiful redhead couldn't help but take the long route, enjoying the peace from her scattered and erratic thoughts too much for it to end so soon. All good things had to come to a stop, though, even Maria knew that. Right now her friend needed her and Maria was going to be there. Taking a left at the bridge – and winking at a beautiful blue eyed girl who was sitting in a stroller with her mother – the redhead headed for the huge fountain in the very center of the park. She was able to pinpoint her friend's location almost instantly – he being the only one pacing furiously. Quickening her speed, Maria hurried over, sensing the stress rolling off of him in waves.

"Hey, sorry it took me so long to get here," Maria apologized the second her friend set eyes on her. "You caught me at a bad time. What's going on?"

Evan Bourne reached forward, his nimble fingers wrapping around Maria's narrow wrist, pulling her over and down on the side of the fountain next to him. "I left Phil last night."

Maria was all too aware of what Evan was going through, having been in the same situation a short time ago, which was one of the many reasons why Maria was forced to leave her home. She knew what it felt like to feel insecure and horrible about ones' self. The fact that Evan got away from Phil was astounding.

"Evan, that's amazing! I'm so happy you finally left that jerk!" Maria exclaimed, the smile bright on her pretty face as she reached over, her arms wrapping around Evan in a big hug. Of course, the smile gradually left her face when she noticed that Evan wasn't responding to the hug in the slightest. "Ev, what's wrong? This is a good thing, right?"

"It would be … if I didn't take him back …"

"What! What happened? I thought you said that that was the last time."

"I know I did, but …" Evan groaned, putting his head in his hands in both desperation and frustration. "We just _work_. We complement each other, we care about each other. We've been through too much to quit now."

"I could slap you right now, Evan," Maria said, her head shaking from side to side. "That is a bunch of bullshit and I think you know that, too."

Evan didn't say anything, only sighed and stared ahead of him, his brown eyes locking on more than one happy couple that were probably out to enjoy the weather, as well as each other. He couldn't help but feel envious of them. They probably weren't struggling to keep their relationship floating, practically sacrificing their own heart and soul to make it work. He really wanted to give up, to just move on and start a new life. He just couldn't do it. The very idea of leaving was just heartbreaking and that much harder, especially when Phil kept finding and guilt tripping him back home, knowing very well how soft Evan's heart was and taking advantage.

Putting her hands in her lap, her big eyes staring down at her feet, Maria knew that her friend was weighing down his options. She recognized the signs – still form, silent frame, faraway gaze. It was a state she found herself in many times while she was down. But even if she was still working through all of the psychological damage, it didn't mean she could let Evan go through the same thing – because he would. If Evan continued to ignore the warning signs and struggle through an unworkable relationship then he was going to get very badly hurt. Maria wouldn't let that happen, though. The pain was excruciating and she couldn't let her best and only friend go through the same thing. He wouldn't come out of it in one piece that much she did know.

"Are you okay?" She finally asked, leaning over to Evan, nudging him with her arm.

"I don't know, Ria."

Maria nodded her head, her eyes casting down at her hands, which she was twisting and fumbling with. She suddenly had an idea, something that might help her friend … but she didn't know if she was ready for reveal such a thing. She had kept it secret for so long, ashamed of what would be said if it came out. After all, she _ran_ because of said secret. Many people would have probably labeled her foolish or stupid for actually running away because of _him_, but they weren't in her place. They didn't feel what she was experiencing and they weren't around when she had to go through the torment. She carried the secret with her for almost an entire year and she still wasn't fully healed. She was badly damaged, but that didn't mean Evan had to be, too. With her history and knowledge of the situation, she could always try to sway him to see what would happen, to warn him before he could break like she did …

"You know you aren't alone in this. Believe it or not, I've been through the same thing you have," She finally said, her voice slow and full of uncertainty, as though she wasn't fully onboard with what she was revealing.

"You have?" Evan asked, his eyebrows rising in surprise, his brown eyes focusing on her.

The redhead nodded her head, biting her bottom lip. "His name was Punk …"

* * *

><p>With their lips molded together in a rough kiss, Adam Copeland and Kelly Blank had absolutely no idea where they were at in the house, only that they had a limited about of time before their clients came over to look over the for sale home. Not wasting any time, the two were quick at removing all of their clothing, the warmth of their bodies enough to heat them up nicely. Moaning into the kiss, Kelly's hand reached down between them, her hand gripping Adam's hardened member, slowly stroking it as her boss bucked into her hand. The times they got together were few and far between, but Adam and Kelly made the best of their situation. The recent business trip to Florida was enough time for the two to carry on their affair, the thought of drifting apart too much to bear for the two blondes.<p>

His tongue running up her neck, Adam's hands were traveling around Kelly's thin body, his fingers flicking at her nipples, rubbing them until they were hard nubs before moving along, ready to discover and excite different parts of her glorious body. The blonde beauty could hardly get enough of it. Her breath was coming out in panted whimpers, her long hair sticking to her face due to the perspiration that was already starting to glisten over their bodies. Hoisting Kelly up, her long, tanned legs wrapping around his waist, Adam started to bite and lick at her collar bone, the sounds of her yelps and whimpers enough to make him almost lose it completely. He had to hold off, though. There was no way he was going to cum too early, not when he hadn't had the feel of her warm, tight walls encircling him. His fingers worked their way to Kelly's bottom, slowly circling the hole before pushing a finger in, her entire body arching with just that simple motion. Running his tongue along her neck, Adam slowly started to pump his finger inside of her, the tips just barely grazing over that sensitive spot, making her moan in pleasure as she lowered her head back down, her lips once again finding his.

Another finger was soon added as Adam's lips worked in unison to Kelly's, both completely aware of the lack of time the two possessed, but not at all ready to stop the waves of desire that were flowing through both of them, controlling their movements. It wasn't long until Kelly found herself bobbing up and down, riding Adam's fingers, trying to hit that pleasure spot. Before the blonde beauty knew it, yet another finger was added and she was practically screaming in pleasure, her body screaming and reacting in the most pleasurable way imaginable. She could feel her walls closing, her inclination reaching its climax, but before that could happen, Adam removed his fingers and quickly replaced it with his throbbing cock, already leaking of precum as he pumped himself a few times, slicking himself up for Kelly.

"Ready, baby?" Adam asked, his breath tickling her ears. He inhaled, taking in the scent of his beautiful secretary. He groaned softly, the feel of her weight against him, the way her legs were wrapped around him, holding him close, the intoxicating sight of her bouncing up and down on his fingers, it was making his head spin and his cock ache.

"Yes!" Kelly gasped out, her blue eyes wide as she felt Adam's dick poking at her entrance, teasing her, knowing that she was so close to climaxing. "Fuck me, Adam! Please! Fuck me hard!"

Growling, Adam didn't need any more encouragement as he stuffed her full, his dick easily sliding into her warm heat. Wasting no time at all, Adam started to thrust while Kelly continued to bounce, both easily able to come up with a rhythm as they worked to pleasure the other. His eyes rolling shut, Adam threw his head back and continued to thrust, the most amazing feelings flowing through his body, especially when his blonde beauty leaned in, her lips pressing against his neck, her teeth nibbling at his Adam's apple. He groaned, his arms wrapping around, cupping her ass and squeezing, eliciting a cry of absolute bliss from Kelly.

Their pace became more frantic, rougher, harder, both knowing that at any moment, their clients could walk in and that was probably one of the many reasons why the two were so turned on to what they were doing. Kelly started bouncing, her body going up and down on Adam's dick as he pushed its way into her, the warmth of her walls enough to make him moan loudly in ecstasy. His hips thrusted upward in a quick motion, his cock slamming into her for all it was worth, shaking her to the very core as he pounded into her hot spot, making the blond beauty throw her head back and scream, a smile ghosting her lips as her eyes closed. She wanted to hold off for as long as possible, to allow the pleasure to continue until she could barely move, but that couldn't happen, not when they were fucking with borrowed time … that and, as Adam continue to slam into that spot, Kelly just couldn't hold off anymore. Burying her head in the crook of his neck, Kelly let out a pleasure-filled scream as she came, cream white silky ribbons dripping onto the hardwood floor as her lover thrusted inside of her. It wasn't long until Copeland came, unable to prolong anymore. He came into her, his load shooting deep into her, though he continued to thrust, making sure that he was completely gone before he stopped, his head coming to rest on her shoulder.

"Shit …" Adam gasped, his breathe coming out in pants, his legs shaking from the effort of holding his lover up and thrusting. He picked his head up from Kelly's shoulder, smiling as he stared at her. Her hair was messy and her skin glistened with sweat, but she looked absolutely beautiful.

"Yeah, I know what you mean," She smiled, leaning down, and pressing her lips gently against his, the kiss much more loving and tender than before. Unwinding her legs, Kelly dropped to the floor, looking around the room at the mess around them. "What time is it?"

"I have no idea. I dropped my phone somewhere over here."

Laughing, Kelly walked over to her skirt that was lying on the floor near the wall. Picking it up, she quickly stepped into it before tossing Adam his pants. Both went around the room, grabbing various articles of clothing and putting them on, making themselves presentable for a meeting that would be happening any second. Sitting down on the sofa, Kelly slipped on her heels, her blue eyes casting a glance at the phone that was peeking out of her clutch purse.

"What time?" Adam asked, working the blue tie.

"We have five minutes to spare," Kelly replied, her dazzling smile coming through as she stood up and made her way over to Adam, taking over with the tie. Her fingers gracefully fixed the tie, her blue eyes staring into Adam's. "We're good, baby."

Laughing, Adam leaned in and kissed Kelly, his lips soft yet forceful as they worked in unison. "Thank you, Kellz."

"You're welcome, Adam."

Green eyes watched as the blonde beauty made her way around the spacious living area, her curves pronounced in the skirt and blouse she wore. He couldn't remember how the affair started; only that it was going better than he had ever thought imaginable. They worked, as though they were made for each other. Of course, there was someone in the way, someone that was stopping Adam's hopes from being achieved …

"So … have you thought about what we talked about two weeks ago?" He asked carefully, making sure to keep his voice as casual as possible.

"I have," Kelly answered, nodding her head as she leaned against the wall, her arms crossing. "I haven't been able to talk to Justin about it, though. He's been acting weird lately, so I've just been leaving him alone," She shrugged, absentmindedly, not all that concerned. A part of her really did care about her South African boyfriend, but deep down, Kelly knew that they were just too different. There just wasn't that spark anymore. It had slowly diminished, as did their relationship.

Adam sighed, running a hand through his wavy, blonde hair as he nodded his head. He was a patient man, but that didn't stop his frustration from growing. The second he laid eyes on Kelly, he knew that she was the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, to share everything with. He was hesitant about starting an affair with her, knowing that she was involved with another. Temptation was a tricky thing, though, and before Adam knew it, he was pushing the blonde beauty against the wall, his lips ravaging hers as she wrapped her arms around him, holding him close. That had been almost three months ago and no progress had been made.

"Do you know when you are going to talk to him?"

"No," Kelly said simply. Upon seeing the annoyed expression on her lover's face, Kelly uncrossed her arms and made her way over to Adam, her hand coming to rest on his forearm as she looked up into his green eyes. "Baby, why are you in such a rush? We're here, we're together. We don't need a label to feel what we are right now."

"I want you, Kelly. I can't fully have you until you are free of Gabriel," His enemy's name came out dryly, as though Adam had trouble getting the word out. His green eyes had turned dark, lust and desire taking over once more as he stared down into her blue eyes, getting lost in the beauty.

Before Kelly could say anything, though, there was a knock on the door, the sound echoing around the empty house. Neither moved for a second, both staring into each other's eyes, trying to read what the other was thinking, but eventually, Kelly moved first, turning around and making her way over to the door. She gripped it and turned the knob, opening it with a big smile on her face as their clients – Alberto Del Rio and Rosa Mendes – walked into the house.

"Hello, Alberto, Rosa, how are you guys doing?" Kelly asked, giving Rosa a hug and Alberto a kiss on the cheek as she motioned the two in.

"We're doing wonderful," Alberto answered, a smile gracing his features as he offered Adam his hand in greeting. "Good to see you again, Mr. Copeland."

"Oh, no, the pleasure is mine," Adam replied, excepting the offering hand. He smiled and put an arm around Rosa, giving her a kiss on the cheek as he motioned around the house. "Well, what do you guys think so far?"

"I am already in love with this house," Rosa said, her eyes scanning over the interior of the house, her smile growing with each second. It had been so long since she felt that happy and it was all thanks to Alberto. He was her knight in shining armor, coming to her when she was in greatest need of a saviour. "What do you think, Alberto?" She asked, casting her gaze to her boyfriend.

"There is potential here," Alberto replied, his eyes taking in the house, figuring it's real worth.

"Well, before you make your decision, why don't we give you a tour?" Kelly suggested, giving the two a glamorous smile.

"That sounds like a good idea," Adam nodded, motioning towards the kitchen. "Why don't we start in here?"

After a wave of agreement, Alberto and Rosa made their way into the kitchen, Rosa talking animatedly about all she would like to do with the living space while Alberto nodded his head and added a suggest here and there. Kelly started to follow behind, but stopped when she felt a grip on her arm, pulling her back gently.

"We need to talk about this later on tonight," Adam whispered against her ear. "I'm not going to wait forever so you need to decide – Gabriel or me."

* * *

><p><em> Yet another questionable update, yes? Hehe! Please review and let me know what you think! I'm really looking forward to these amazing reviews. <em>

_ If you haven't already, please follow me at Shandy777_RKO, which is the Twitter account for this account. You'll get update and ideas that are formulating, so please follow! _

_ I hope you guys enjoyed! _


	3. Confusion

_ Thanks – __**Bravada**__, __**FansofCenaton**__, __**cenarko1986**__, __**The Scurvied One**__ – for the lovely reviews! _

_ These reviews are seriously awesome. Thanks so much, lovelies! Please send this around! I would love to get more feedback! Love you guys!_

* * *

><p>~ <span>Chapter 3 – Confused<span> ~

* * *

><p><em> Not everyone is clear. There is sometimes a fine line between what we see and think opposed to what others see and think, and when those lines are crossed, chaos sometimes ensues. So much is happening at the same time, so much is coming and going, keeping your head on straight is becoming a daunting task. After the storm passes and the waters still, even then it's hard to clarify what had just happened. You're disordered, muddled, puzzled, perplexed, baffled, confounded, mistaken, and there seems to be absolutely no way to clear your jumbled thoughts long enough before the storm strikes again, leaving you vulnerable for yet another disaster.<em>

-x- -x- -x- -x- -x-

Sitting in the backseat of an unrecognizable vehicle – something common and unnoticeable – Ted DiBiase Jr. peered out of the window, his cerulean eyes taking in the sights as they passed by, though he wasn't really _seeing_ them. His mind was in another place, recalling a time that happened not too long ago. It happened hours before, in fact, when he had gone to the Saints Hospital to get his brother to patch up a grazed bullet wound that was inflicted during a raid. That part was no problem – he had raided heists before, gotten shot before, but nothing hurt more than getting rejected by his own brother.

Randy _DiBiase_ was strong-willed and incredibly stubborn, knowing exactly what he wanted and didn't give a damn if he was supported or not. He went for it, no matter what anyone said, if Randy thought it would help him in the long run, he would shoot straight for it, no questions asked. That was something Ted admired most about his brother – the man's determination and will power was astounding. Even when their father – Ted DiBiase Sr. – disagreed and utterly _hated_ Randy's decision to get out of the mob and pursue a career that helped and healed people instead of hurting them, Randy didn't even hesitate. Those admiral traits were something that Ted didn't possess, though … not in the slightest.

The vehicle pulled into a narrow pathway off the side of the road, jarring the younger DiBiase out of his thoughts long enough to look around. The sky had turned a dark gray colour, the wind picking up, blowing the trees in different directions. The season had turned uncharacteristically cold for the early fall, the leaves already changing colours and falling from the trees. Beside him, a man named Jason Reso sat, a cell phone pressed against his ear, talking adamantly to whoever was on the other line. Sighing, Ted rolled his eyes and turned his attention back out the window. He had never really liked the guy, but his father always insisted that Jason come along. It was as though the man didn't even trust him, his own son.

Regardless of what Ted Sr. thought of him, Ted closed his eyes and allowed those insecure thoughts to swirl around, temporarily taking a hold of him, influencing him. He was always the last, always coming in second behind Randy. His resistance only fueled their father's determination to reel him back in, to convince him that their lifestyle was by tradition, which meant that it was imperative that Randy come back and continue their line. It was a game of tug-a-war with those two. Randy would get several steps ahead of him, only for Ted Sr. to find something that dragged Randy back. The battle never stopped and wouldn't until the eldest DiBiase son was back. But if that were so, then where did it leave Ted?

Invisible … a substitution until the variable came back.

The pang of hurt that came with the knowledge of not being that important to the family hurt, but the look on his father's face whenever he looked at him hurt even more. If anything, he probably wished that Ted were the one who ran off. That way his beloved son would have still been there, would have been able to relish in the victories of their battles. No, Ted was still there and it was Randy would ran. And it was Ted who stood in the corner and watched his life slowly go by, knowing that he was trapped in an endless cycle of loneliness, neglect, and hate.

It wasn't long until the vehicle pulled up to a large mansion, the lawn cut perfectly with lights running along the edges of the driveway, the effects welcoming to those who were visiting, but ominous for Ted, who knew what lied behind those solid oak doors. The car rolled to a stop and the two men in the backseat emerged. Ted maneuvered his shoulder some, wincing at the shooting pain that shot through his arm. Granted, he was feeling a lot better than he was before he got to the hospital – Randy honestly did a fantastic job at cleaning the wound – but his arm was still stiff and sore. Jason barely gave the younger DiBiase a glance as he shut his cell phone, the thick suitcase clutched in his hand as he walked up the steps to the porch.

Ted and Jason walked into the house; the only sound was their footsteps as they echoed through the entire mansion. Ted hated that place. The history was gruesome, the ground tainted with death even though the mansion had only been there for seven years. There was just too much death, too much suffering, and too many memories of the screams of terror that filled those walls. It was enough to send chills up Ted's spine and an eerie feeling to set in. Ted Sr. wasn't a big fan of lights, which was probably why half of the house was cast into darkness; the only lights available were either from small lamps on side tables or by the numerous amounts of candles that were placed around the house. Heading up the winding staircase, Ted and Jason made their way to the top story where the only room that resided up there was Ted Sr.'s office, which had a view of the entire property, a huge bay window in the back of the room that also gave him a lovely view of the river.

After giving a quick knock, Jason reached out and grabbed the door knob, twisting then pushing it open before stepping back and allowing the younger DiBiase to step in first. Upon hearing the noise, Ted DiBiase Sr. looked up from the piles of papers on his desk, his eyes expectant.

"Well?"

"The raid was successful. We were able to get the money those bastards owed us back and have eliminated them. No evidence was left," Ted said, his voice revealing nothing as he told his father the news.

"That's good to hear," Ted Sr. nodded his head in approval before making room on the large desk and motioning for Jason to come forward with the briefcase. The man stepped up and placed the briefcase carefully on the desk, as though the contents inside were fragile and would break under the wrong conditions. It was opened and the counting began, the two men making sure that everything was all there while Ted stood back, his hands behind his back as he waited for his father to dismiss him. "You were injured, Jr."

Ted blinked and stared at his father in surprise for a moment, shocked that he even noticed that there was something wrong. It took a lot for Ted Sr. to tell that there was something up, especially when it had anything to do with his youngest son. The fact that he actually noticed sent a ray of hope warming up the coldness that had seeped its way into Ted's heart. He took a tiny step forward, a small smile appearing on his face.

"I'm alright, dad," He said, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. "It was just a graze. I got the guy afterwards easily."

"If you were as good as you say you are then you wouldn't have gotten shot to begin with," Ted Sr. said, not even bothering to look up from the stacks of money that were flowing out of the briefcase. At the moment, he was reclaiming what was lost and now found to him. "How was he?"

Furrowing his brow, the frown deepening on his face, Ted cocked his head to the side and stared at his father. Of course, he shouldn't have been surprised at all when he received that response, but Ted couldn't help it. He _needed_ his father's approval, _needed_ his father to know that he wasn't the screw up. He actually gave a damn and wanted to help in any way possible. Why he couldn't see that and honestly believe him was a mystery to the younger DiBiase. Why he thought otherwise was beyond him. There was no surprise when Ted felt his heart drop, his hopes immediately crashing to the floor at the disapproving tone of his father's voice.

"He …?"

"Yes, Ted, he. He as in your brother Randy, he," The father answered, looking up to give his youngest son another disappointed, annoyed look. "You got shot and you went to the hospital to get Randal to fix it up. How was he? What did he say?"

Closing his eyes for a brief moment, Ted sighed quietly and cleared his throat before opening his eyes once more, those cerulean orbs shining. "He wanted to know what happened, why I was there, what I did."

Ted Sr. nodded his head and kept his eyes trained on his son, waiting for him to continue, holding his breath, hoping for the words he so desperately wanted to hear. "Then …?"

"Then he said that that was the last time, that he didn't want me to come back asking for his help. He wants nothing to do with you or this business."

The patriarch of the DiBiase family sighed in disappointment, his eyes falling to the floor while he shook his head – both in annoyance and sadness. He just didn't understand why Randy was pushing them away, why he was so adamant about staying as far away from them as possible. It just didn't make any sense to him. And then he looked up and saw the disappointment standing in the middle of his office, his eyes like a puppy – so full of attention and hope. It sickened him.

"You can leave now," He finally growled, his eyes flashing before he turned his back on his youngest son, turning his attention back to the briefcase full of money.

Ted didn't do anything for almost a full minute after those harsh words spilled from his father's lips. The venomous tone, the icy edge seemed to slice him right then, leaving a dull pain in the center of his chest. He felt like a child, one that had been scolded and was desperate to get back on their parent's good side, to see them look upon him in happiness and pride instead of hate and frustration. His father wasn't going to do that, though. Deep down inside – no matter how much he wished he it would happen, not matter how much he wished his father would change – Ted Sr. would always hate him.

Randy was his only son. Randy was the one that would succeed him when it was time. It was always about Randy. Randy, Randy, Randy, Randy …

* * *

><p>He felt like he wasn't living his own life, like the man sitting at the dining room table wasn't him and the woman running around the house with a phone pressed against her ear wasn't his wife. He didn't even <em>know<em> those people anymore. There he sat, cup of coffee in hand, and all he could think about was getting out, finding a way to get free of that life. It was hard, trying to pretend that he was happy when all he wanted to do was run, to get away, and to start over … to act as though the past six months never happened. It was horrible thinking such a thing so early in a marriage, but nothing felt right anymore. He felt detached and completely alone, his feelings empty when it came to his wife, to the life he had now.

"Wade? Wade!"

He blinked, snapping out of his daze, his dark green eyes focusing on his wife. When they were dating, she had been so sweet and kind, her smile lighting up the room and his heart, but now … well, just the mere presence of her cast a shadow over his entire mind, body, and soul.

"Can you even hear me?"

"Yes, sorry," Wade said, giving his wife, Michelle Barrett, his full attention. "What's going on?"

"Now that you've snapped back into reality, I'm getting ready to head to work. Before I go, I left a list of things I would like you to do before I get back. There's not much, but I would be very appreciative if they were taken care of."

"Hang on, you left me a list? Seriously …?" Wade asked, his eyebrows rising incredulously. _Does she honestly think of me as a child?_

"I only did that, because I don't want you to forget," Michelle said, her slender frame slipping into her jacket. "Besides, not only do I have a shit load of tests I need to grade, I also have lady's night with Layla and Rosa. I don't have time to do any of that."

If there was one thing Wade Barrett hated, it would be those damn Fridays where his wife would leave him alone to be with her friends while he stayed at home, left in the horribly depressing thoughts that seemed to plague him even while he was awake, not just in his dreams. He cared about Michelle even though he wasn't happy. He wanted her to be happy, which was one of the reasons why he hadn't said anything to her yet about those feelings. Another reason was because he wanted her to figure them out, to see that he wasn't happy, that the smile on his face was forced … that it was all forced. She wouldn't see it, though, no matter how obvious Wade tried to make it.

"Can we just … can we just talk? For one second," Wade finally said, his voice neutral, but his eyes screaming in desperation. He could take it anymore.

Cocking her head to the side, Michelle furrowed her brows, staring at her husband in confusion, not really understanding what Wade was saying. The look on his face – so dark and desperate, yet so hopeful – and the tone of his voice weren't helping all that much. Pulling out a chair, Michelle slowly sank into the seat, her grey eyes remaining locked on her husband's dark green orbs.

"What is it, honey?" She asked, her voice taking on a tone full of worry and confusion.

"Let's get out of here. Let's just call in sick for a week, pack a bag, get in the car, and just drive."

"What?"

"I want to get out of here, Michelle. I feel like I'm suffocating in this time. It's all the same thing, nothing ever happens. I want to be spontaneous and wild like we were when we were younger. What do you think?"

For a moment, Michelle didn't say anything, too shocked and confused by Wade's outburst to really _understand_ what he was asking of her. She slowly shook her head, staring at her husband questionably, watching as his eyes slowly faded as the excitement drained the longer he stared back at his wife – the woman who changed more than he could possibly imagine.

"Wade … no. How can you even suggest that? We can't leave right now; we have responsibilities, bills, and a future to plan. We don't have the time to be spontaneous!"

"That's what the word means – drop everything and just do it," Wade said, smiling. He pushed his coffee to the side and leaned forward, peering over at his dumbfounded wife. "Come on, love. Let's just go and have some fun."

Michelle leaned forward, her gaze sharp as she glared at Wade, her annoyance over the situation getting higher and stronger the longer they stayed on topic. "No! God, I have no idea where you got this ridiculous idea from, but you really need to swallow it and let it go, because it is _not_ going to happen. We aren't teenagers anymore. We were wild and stupid and we didn't care about the next day. Living in the moment was all we really cared about, but times have changed. We have jobs and bills and a future to prepare for, so running off to have _fun_ is irresponsible and just not happening."

Her mini-lecture now complete, Michelle stood from the table and walked over to her purse which was on the counter, her heels the only sound resonating in the silence that befell them. Grabbing the gloves that were inside, she flung her purse over her shoulder before picking up her school bag.

"I'll be home later tonight. I'm going to stay over to get these tests graded then I'm coming home to get ready for lady's night with Rosa and Layla. I'll talk to you later, honey. Love you."

He didn't move or say a word as she went out of view … didn't move or say anything even after he heard the car back out of the driveway and take off down the road. Wade sighed and closed his eyes, putting his head in his hands, the hell of his palms digging into his eyes. He knew he should have seen that coming, knew that the attempt would be futile, especially when he knew that Michelle changed. She was no longer that kind, funny woman what was his best friend. She wasn't even that anymore.

His marriage was coming undone and he was slowly falling out of love with Michelle Barrett.

* * *

><p>John Cena was not only hurt by his fiancée leaving him – because he honestly felt as though his heart had been ripped from his chest – but he was so unbelievably angry. He was angry that Rosa Mendez was so selfish. He hated that she was so spoiled and had to have everything her way, otherwise she's pitch a complete fit. He hated that she cheated on him, that she betrayed him, because she was bored. Not only that, but John was angry with himself for being so naïve. He knew getting involved with someone like Rosa was going to be a handful, knew that she was a high-end girl that required a lot of attention. But he thought she was different, thought that she was more than looks and materialistic things. And she was for a while. Rosa was sweet and funny and fun to be around. She was supportive when he said he wanted to join the police force, though she voiced her concern for his safety numerous times through training. And then everything just … stopped – while John focused all of his attention on his work, Rosa …<p>

That was the frustrating part, knowing that the warning signs were so clear, but he was just too blinded by his ego, by his own will to make it big to actually see it. In doing so, he neglected the one person he was doing it all for. While he was doing his own thing, Rosa was off doing hers and, while she was gallivanting around Saints Ville, she met someone who actually gave her the time of day. As much as he wanted to blame her, John knew that most of the blame was solely on him.

His feet had carried him to a neighboring coffee shop, which was a regular spot for him. His mind and thoughts swimming around Rosa and the horrible mistakes he had made, John got in line and ordered his regular coffee order, not really knowing what he was saying. Only when he paid and walked out of the coffee shop did he finally notice that both of his hands were full. He had ordered Rosa's favourite mocha like he did every day. Closing his eyes, John took a moment to just breathe, because he honestly felt like he was losing his sanity. John shook his head, hating the fact that Rosa was taking over his thoughts, imprinting her lovely self permanently in his head. Not only that – he just spent four dollars and fifty cents on a mocha he wasn't even going to drink.

"I hope you aren't going to waste a perfectly good cup of coffee."

His hand hovering over the trashcan, John furrowed his brow, turning around to see who was addressing him.

"Oo, you don't look too hot, Johnny," Candice Michelle said, a friendly smile on her face before she actually looked him over, her countenance then morphing into concern. "Are you alright?"

To say he was shocked was clearly an understatement, his sapphire eyes going wide as he stared at the one person he never expected to see step foot back in Saints Ville. She was a lot prettier than he remembered – her dark brown hair a bit shorter than it had been last time he saw her, hanging about an inch or two inches past her shoulders. Her smile was as friendly as it always was, making her brown eyes sparkle.

"Candice?" That was all he seemed to be able to make out, the shock hardly wearing off. She nodded her head, smiling and laughing at the incredulous look on his face, and it was enough to temporarily make him forget about Rosa and his loss. "Oh my, God, you're here!"

"I know, shocking, right? I never thought I'd be back here, either," She came closer, smiling brightly at one of her best friends, the same guy who she grew up with.

"No, I never thought I'd see you again, not after what happened."

"Yeah …" She broke eye contact for a moment, just long enough to push those memories to the back of her mind. Candice knew coming back to Saints Ville would mean reliving old memories, facing ghosts from her past. She didn't want to _now_, though, not when she was face-to-face with the one person she missed the most, with the one person who knew the truth and didn't judge her. "How are you, though? Something's wrong."

John smiled weakly and handed her the mocha, leading her to a free table that wasn't surrounded by a lot of people. He couldn't help but chuckle some. Candice was always perceptive of him, able to tell if there was something bothering him despite the façades he put up to trick people into thinking everything was alright. Candice saw right through them, though.

When the two were settled, John sighed and started running his hands over his coffee cup, his sapphire eyes locked on the letters on the plastic holder, though he wasn't really reading them.

"Rosa and I aren't getting married. She broke things off, packed up half the house, and moved into her new boyfriend's house, John pursed his lips, the anger and sadness that he pushed back finally coming back to the surface. He shook his head and pressed on. "Apparently, I drowned myself in my work and completely forgot about her."

Candice reached over and took his hand. She could tell that he was hurting and needed some type of comfort and '_I'm sorry_' wasn't going to cover it.

"Have you?"

"I don't know. Rosa knew I was passionate about becoming a police officer. She knew this is what I wanted to do with my life."

"If she thinks you were neglecting her then it might have something to do with overworking yourself?" Candice suggested. Once she saw the glare that was shot her way, the brunette knew she was getting close. "Don't give me that look, Cena. You and I both know you enjoy working yourself to death."

"It's not like I was never home! She likes to make it out like I'm the one who did wrong! _She_ cheated on _me_!" John said, emphasizing his point by jabbing himself in the chest several times.

"But you are blaming yourself," Candice pointed out, taking a drink of her mocha. She cringed before looking down at the hot liquid. "Ew, is that caramel?"

"Yeah, I bought it for Rosa like I do every week, only to realize that we aren't together anymore," John answered, rubbing his tired eyes. The Latina was really fucking with his head.

"At least you don't have to waste twenty bucks on this horrible drink anymore. This shit really sucks," Candice stood and tossed the unfinished mocha in the trashcan before taking her place in front of Cena again. "Who is the guy Rosa cheated with, anyway? Anybody I know?"

Right on que, a red sports car pulled up, the tires screeching to a halt at the curb. The doors opened and two people – a man and a woman – emerged. John cursed silently as they walked to the coffee shop. Rosa Mendez walked into the shop while Alberto Del Rio stayed outside, pulling out his cellphone, or at least that's what he started to do before he caught sight of John.

"Please do not tell me that he is the one Rosa left you for. The guy is clearly a player. He'll leave her ass in a week."

"Is he coming over here?" John asked, scratching his back, trying to peer over his shoulder without looking so conspicuous.

Candice watched the Latino for a moment before sighing, turning her attention back to John. "Yeah, he is. Look alive and be on your best behaviour."

Whatever John was going to say was drowned out by a thick Spanish accent coming from behind him.

"Ah, John Cena, at last we meet."

He closed his eyes and counted to five before opening them, turning his attention to Del Rio, channeling everything he had into not pulling out his gun and shooting the man who wrecked his life in the face.

"Can I help you with something, Del Rio?"

The Latino chuckled to himself, the snide, narcissistic smirk on his face growing when he saw the look that was being thrown in his direction, as well as Cena's stiff posture.

"Actually, yes, you can," Alberto said, going into his jacket pocket, pulling out a bundle of papers. "I would appreciate it if you made these – how you say – disappear."

"Are you fucking serious?" John demanded staring at Alberto with a look mixed between anger and shock. He couldn't believe Del Rio was seriously asking that of him. "You know I could arrest you for what you just asked of me."

"Smart move, dude," Candice said, her sarcasm clearly evident in the tone of her voice. "Smart move …"

"Ah, you have a friend with you," Del Rio purred, his dark eyes sliding over to Candice, winking.

"Okay, it's time for you to get the fuck out of here, right now!" John said, his voice much louder than before, gaining the attention of several of the other patrons.

"John!"

The sound of Rosa Mendez's voice appeared to be of an angel's, but at the same time, like nails on a chalkboard. Her hair blew gently with the wind as she stormed over, her honey brown eyes blazing when she caught sight of her ex-fiancé. Storming over, John couldn't help but look her over, taking in her appearance. The clothes that she was wearing looked _very_ expensive – it looked as though Alberto had been letting Rosa play with his credit card. The fact that she was having the time of her life while he was suffering just angered and saddened him. His defiance kicked back in, though, especially when Rosa sent him a glare, which was why he immediately sent her one in return.

"What the hell are you doing!" She demanded, going so far as to putting her hands on her hips, like she was scolding a child.

"What the hell are you doing getting pissed at me!This guy is the one who approached us!"

It was only after John motioned to Candice did Rosa actually take notice in the other woman who had stood up and moved out of the way. Her eyes narrowed as she looked down at Candice.

"Who in the hell is this!" Just as Candice opened her mouth to reply, Rosa raised her hand, putting a stop to whatever it was that she was going to say. "Never mind, it's not important. Back the hell off, John. It's time to let go. We are _finished_."

Looping her arm through Alberto's, she looked Candice up and down in disdain before they turned around and headed off, but not before Del Rio shot John a smirk. His dark eyes then turned to Candice, looking her all over before winking.


	4. Choices

_ Thanks – __**CenaRKO1986**__, __**FansofCenaton**__, __**TheBlackerTheBerry**__, __**xSilentWhispersx**__, __**Ada15**__, __**M. j's place**__, __**The Scurvied One **__and __**Bravada**__ – for these lovely reviews! You guys are truly amazing._

* * *

><p>~ <span>Chapter 4 – Choices<span> ~

* * *

><p><em> You think about the losses and the rewards, about your past and future, about life and death, rights and wrongs. They all work together and define who you are as a person. You look back at your past and find what you did wrong, which will help you deal with the rights and wrongs. Those rights and wrongs will help determine the losses and rewards, leading up to your future. Death will hold you back, which will govern how you live your life. Once you are able to sort out all of that … it will then be decided if you are strong enough to fight or weak enough to hide.<em>

-x- -x- -x- -x- -x-

Sitting back on the couch with a Diet Pepsi in his hand, Phillip Brooks closed his eyes and leaned his head back, a smug look on his face. If there was one thing the Straight Edge Saviour was good at, it was manipulation. He was exceptional at it and he knew it, too. Evan Bourne was Phil's current conquest and his personal favourite at the moment. There was just something about the chase that excited him, his blood flowing rapidly as the adrenaline coursed through his veins. His little conquest was just too much fun, the confusion and turmoil of thoughts swimming around in his head, leaving him prone for more mind games that Phil couldn't get enough of.

The sound of cabinet doors opening and closing resonated from the kitchen, gaining the Straight Edge Saviour's attention. He couldn't help but chuckle some. Little Evan Bourne had been in the kitchen all day. He always cooked when he was having conflicting thoughts to sort out. Of course, that was exactly what Phil wanted. With Evan confused, it was that much easier for Brooks to pull him in deeper. Setting his Diet Pepsi on the mahogany side table, the Straight Edge Saviour stood up and made his way into the kitchen, sauntering over and wrapping his arms around his confused lover who immediately tensed in his grasp.

Closing his eyes, Evan tried to relax in the hold, tried to think back to a much happier time with Phil. It didn't work, though. Every time he tried, Phil only morphed into something much worse, shaking the smaller man to the very core. Mumbling a quick excuse – something about having to start dinner – Evan pulled himself from out of Phil's arms and walked over to the other side of the kitchen, placing his hands firmly on the countertops in an attempt to gain some type of control as he tried to calm his racing heart.

Smiling inwardly, loving how he was practically driving Evan closer and closer to his breaking point, the Straight Edge Saviour faked a concerned look. "Are you alright, Evy?"

He hated the little nicknames; he hated how untrue the compassion was. Evan just hated everything about his life and how miserable and tired he felt every single day. He didn't know if it was even worth it anymore. Having to go through such a troublesome ordeal every day was getting to be too much. Phillip Brooks didn't care about him, didn't give a damn what he was doing to the man, so why not just … end it?

"No … not really, no," Evan finally answered, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to control the shaking. God, he just felt like shit – so worthless and pathetic, just some nobody that couldn't attribute anything to the world.

"What's wrong?"

"What the fuck do you think is wrong!" Evan suddenly snapped, whirling around, his brown eyes blazing as he glared at his _boyfriend_.

"I know you're still angry with me. You have every right to be," Phil replied, his voice still as soft and as light as it was before. He knew that Evan was going to lose it, knew that it was only a matter of time before he cracked. Good. That was exactly what Phil wanted, too. He knew that losing – mentally _losing_ – Evan would be the only way to truly keep him. "I just want you to know how sorry I am. I've made the same mistake over and over, and it seems like I can never get it right. I don't deserve you, but here you are, still by my side," Phil smiled and stood before Evan, reaching up to run a finger down the side of his face, loving how his boy flinched and realized that he was stuck between the counter and the Straight Edge Saviour. "That just proves how much stronger you are then I am … how much you love me."

"I don't even think I do anymore," Evan said, catching Phil off guard. He pushed past him, not at all liking the claustrophobic feel whenever he was in close proximities with Brooks. Shaking his head, Evan looked back over to Phil who was still staring at where he once stood. "How do you honestly expect things to go back to what they used to be after all that you've done? You must really be full of yourself if so, because things will never be the same way they were. You've destroyed every hope of that ever happening."

"I made a mistake …" Phil stated. He knew Evan was strong, he knew that there was a lot of spunk left in him, but how much fight was left till he simply lied down? Clearing his throat, Phil made sure to keep his voice controlled. "I know it's hard for you to trust me-"

"I don't trust you at all," Evan interrupted, giving Phil an incredulous look. "I don't trust you; I don't feel comfortable being around you, leaving you alone. Hell, I'm afraid to even come back here, because I have no idea what I'm about to walk into!"

The more he talked, the angrier he became. Looking at Phil, seeing how slick the man thought he was, and seeing how different he was now than how he was years ago, Evan knew that it was permanent. He loved the old Phillip Brooks, not this new one. This new one was foreign to him. He was cold and calculative, a schemer. It got to the point where Bourne couldn't even tell truth from lie whenever it involved the Straight Edge Saviour, and that was something Evan couldn't tolerate. He did and had for a while now, but he couldn't anymore. He just had it.

"Ev, I-"

"Just stop," Evan put a hand up, ending whatever it was that Phil was going to say in his defense. He didn't deserve to defend himself after all the damage he inflicted. "I just … I've been thinking about this for a while now and I think we should just end things."

"Come again?" Phil demanded, feeling the hold he had on Evan slowly slipping. Whoever the hell was putting ideas in his head would pay dearly for it – Phil would make sure of that.

"You heard me," Evan responded, his voice almost tired-like. He turned around and started walking out of the kitchen. "I'm leaving. I'm not coming back. I'm just done."

He didn't know why he did it, why he snapped the way he did and reacted so harshly. All Phil knew was that one second he was just glaring at the back of Evan's retreating form, and the next, staring down at Bourne's unconscious body with a small cutting board in his hand. Taking a few steps back, Phil dropped the board onto the floor and leaned back against the wall, his mind going a million miles a minute. Did he regret it? No. Did he have a plan? Yes.

If Evan didn't want to be with him willingly then Phil was just going to have to convince him in a different way. It wouldn't be that hard, after all, Phil was the master of manipulation. He would easily be able to shift the 'crime scene' a bit to make it look as though Evan snapped and went crazy …

Smirking, Phil chuckled and pushed himself off the wall, walking back into the kitchen, whistling a tune as he started creating a whole new scene.

* * *

><p>"I don't … I don't understand what you're trying to tell me here, Ted …" Unsure of what to say or think about the current situation, Randy Orton remained silent as his brother paced back and forth in front of him, a confusion look plastered across his countenance. The visit had been unexpected and – quite frankly – unwanted, but Randy found that, no matter how much he tried to push his family away, they pushed back that much harder. "I'm not a part of the mob – he has no control over me."<p>

"You may not be a part of the mob anymore, but you are still his son and he is still your father, so stop being a fucking snob and stop ignoring his calls. He wants to see you," Ted said, his voice full of the patience he was more definitely lacking. Randy Orton was a very stubborn man and he was definitely getting tired of having to explain everything in great detail, give three reasons why he should do or act a certain way, _and_ practically beg for him to actually do it. Sometimes it was all for nothing, but sometimes – on those rare days where the stars and planets all seemed to align – Randy would actually grant him the pleasure of doing it.

"Why?" The eldest brother demanded, shaking his head in annoyance. Clearly patience was something the two sons weren't gifted with as they glared at each other. "Why should I do shit for him when all he's done for me is piss me off. What part of 'I don't want anything to do with you or this family' doesn't he get?"

"You're blood, you're family. And a part from pissing you off, he raised your ass."

"Why do you jump to defend him? Ted, he treats you like shit and you still lick it off his ass," Randy shook his head and pushed himself off the wall he was leaning on. They were still standing in the foyer, Ted only stepping in and closing the door before giving Orton the lecture. "He doesn't care about you. The only thing he's concerned about is me getting on the 'right' path after I left, and that's only because I'm not taking his shit anymore."

For a moment, Ted said absolutely nothing. A part of him really wanted to just hall back and rain his fist down on his brother's face, but what would that solve other than more pent up rage and frustration between them? He loved his brother dearly and hated that this was all happening to him, but whether he liked to admit it to himself or not, Ted DiBiase Sr. gave him attention – granted, it wasn't the attention he wanted, but it was attention nonetheless. Randy on the other hand … well, he just pushed him away, wanting to keep his past as far away from him as possible.

"Do you think you're better than us, than me?"

"Oh, God, here we go," Randy groaned, rolling his eyes at the question.

"No, I want to know the truth," Ted demanded, taking a step forward, getting deeper into the house and closer to Randy. "I want to know what you really and truly think of me and the rest of the family."

"What do you think happened to our mum, Ted? Honestly," Randy shook his head once more, unable to understand why his brother _couldn't_ see what was right there in front of him. "Our _father_ – if that's what you want to call him – is a killer. He is a cold-blooded killer who has no right being a parent. And you … I'm still trying to figure you out."

"And you're doing so much better than we are? Look at you – you think you're so high and mighty now that you are a fucking doctor. You drive a nice car and you're able to buy expensive things, make a new life, a new family whenever you fucking choose. You're pathetic, is what you are!"

Ignoring the insults being shot his way, Randy took a step forward, as well, throwing his hands up in emphasis as he expressed what you had been trying to tell his brother all along. "You can have all of those things, too, Ted! You don't have to do this! You don't have to follow that man around like you're a lost puppy! God, why can't you see what he's doing to you? You're smart, Teddy – you have to see this."

"You know dad wanted me to take you tonight?" Ted blurted, watching as the desperate look on his brother's face shifted to that of wariness. It should have been a good feeling, knowing that his older brother, someone he looked up to and believed in, was afraid of him, cautious of him. It should have felt great knowing that Randy was afraid, because deep down, he knew that if their father wanted it done, Ted would make sure it got done. He didn't feel that way, though. No, instead, Ted felt his heart drop. He was a conflicted man, not really knowing what was right or wrong anymore, but just going with whatever was told of him, whether it was from his father or Jason Reso. "He told me that if you resisted coming on your own then to drag you out of the house kicking and screaming if I had to. He's fed up of your games and he's reached his point."

"Yeah," Randy slowly took a step back and shook his head, his icy blue eyes staring down at the wood floors below his feet, trying to think of a way out of the predicament. His brother was too far gone. He would attempt to take him to their father. Randy knew that much. Of course, he wasn't going to allow that to happen. No, Randy would most definitely kick Ted DiBiase Jr. right out of his house before he even thought of putting his hands on him. Decision made up, Orton looked up at his little brother. "So what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to let you go."

That definitely caught Randy's attention. He blinked a few times before opening his mouth to speak, but Ted merely shook his head and raised a hand, cutting off whatever it was that Randy was going to attempt to say. The six words definitely knocked the fight out of him.

"You're on call tonight, right? At the hospital, you're on call?" Ted asked. When Randy furrowed his brow and slowly nodded his head, Ted continued. "I never found you at home and you were in surgery at the hospital, so there was no way I could take you. You're safe for the night."

Randy didn't say anything for a moment, simply stared at Ted – his _Teddy_ – trying to figure out what was going on, what he was playing at, and if he should be worried for anymore threats from him. Staring into his cerulean eyes, all Randy found was the truth.

He shook his head. "What are you doing, Teddy?"

"I'm giving you time to think," Ted answered, turning his gaze down to the floor. "I know you aren't listening to me, I know you think you can take care of yourself and remain hidden forever, but clearly you're going to have to find out on your own that that's not going to happen. Dad _will_ find you and he _will_ make you pay for all the shit you're putting him through. It's only a matter of time before that happens. Either you humour him and see him for an hour or so, or you get dragged out of your home and put before him. And you and I both know he's not going to be nice about it, either."

Turning on his heal, the youngest DiBiase son made his way to the door, his fingers wrapping around the handle before he paused, looking back at the man he secretly looked up to. "I know you hate him. I don't know what you feel about me … a part of me really doesn't want to know, but … if you do give a damn about me at all, you'll do this one thing for me. I ask a lot of you, but I'd really appreciate this one. You know … only if you care."

And it was with that did Ted turn around and yank the door open, disappearing behind it, leaving behind a confused and conflicted Orton with one hell of a choice to make.

* * *

><p>Wade Barrett had absolutely no idea why he stopped in front of the KB Crystal Ball Readings store in the lower part of Saints Ville. He had no idea why he was actually considering going inside to get a reading, knowing full and well that whatever answer he got – if he decided to go in, of course – was going to be a complete lie. That or he'd actually start believing it and do whatever he could to change it or make sure it happened. Either way, the last thing Barrett wanted was to get confused or filled with false hope. Still … his feet just weren't cooperating with the mental commands his brain was sending out, which only allowed him with more time to think about going in, which made those commands – the commands that just weren't reaching his feet – to grow more frantic when they started to realize that the decision was already made.<p>

Slowly, his feet started to move down the sidewalk towards the dingy looking store, his eyes staring at it warily, as if waiting for something crazy to pop out – that or get mugged. Really, he was in such a horrible part of town, he had no idea what he was doing there. The whole thing with Michelle was really starting to bug him, which was why he called in sick and just stayed home from work, choosing instead to take a nice long walk in the hopes of figuring something out. That still didn't explain why he ended up at a place like _that_.

Right before he got to the porch, the door opened and a man walked out, his face filled with gratitude, the smile huge on his face as he continuously turned around to give whoever it was inside a huge grin.

"Thank you so much! Thank you!"

"Don't worry about it, darling," The woman's voice – an English voice, Wade caught onto – rang out from the darkness of the room. "Just remember what I told you and everything should be fine."

"Thank you, thank you!"

Wade followed the man's movements as he rushed down the steps, barely giving him the time of day as he brushed past him and down the sidewalk, practically jumping in his step. He wondered what must have happened inside to make him so happy, but he didn't have to wait long for an explanation, because the women spoke.

"The poor fool. His marriage is as good as gone."

Catching his attention, Wade turned around to face the woman, seeing her almost knocking the air out of him. He didn't really know what he was expecting from the crystal ball reader, but beauty was not one of them. She had pale skin, her eyes dark along with her hair, streaked with gray and red highlights. She wore all black with some red places here and there, but other than that, she looked almost like a vampire – of course, that was probably her intent. They were all the same, always wanting to create an air of mystery.

"What?"

"The man," She motioned with her head as she crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe, her eyes watching the man retreat further down the road. "He came to get advice on his marriage, which was falling apart. It doesn't matter what he does, though. The woman is cheating on him with every Tom, Dick, and Harry that walks around and is willing."

"And you lied to him?"

That caught the woman's attention. Her gaze slowly shifting to him, those dark brown eyes staring into his soul, it felt like. Wade fidgeted under the weight of it, but he never looked away. He wasn't going to allow the creepiness to take control of his logic. The dark look on the woman's face contorted into a smile. She pushed herself off the doorframe and slowly walked back inside the store, knowing that Wade would follow behind.

"Come now, isn't it obvious?" The woman walked deeper into the house, all too aware of Wade's slow stride as he followed her, his eyes taking in every detail of her humble abode after he closed the door quietly. "No one comes to me to hear the truth. No one _wants_ to hear the truth. The truth is what they are hoping isn't. They want false hope; they want something to look forward to, to save."

"That's ridiculous," Wade shook his head, a disgusted look on his face when the woman sat down at a table where – _shockingly_ – a crystal ball sat. "No one wastes their hard-earned money to get lied to by someone who is practically stealing from them."

Instead of taking offense of what Barrett just said, the pretty brown eyed woman simply smiled and cocked her head. "Then what are you doing here?"

"Well, I …" Stumbling over his words, Wade blinked a few times, adverting his gaze to the floor as his brain quickly wracked over all the things he could say to the woman. Of course, at the moment, nothing came to mind. He could feel his face growing a bit red, the embarrassment at being caught up grinding at his ego. How could he have allowed that to happen?

"My name is Katie Lea Burchill and I run a business," The now revealed woman said, standing up and walking over to Wade, putting her hand on his shoulder for a moment before taking a few steps past him, pulling the red curtain closed, shielding them from the rest of her store. "Whether it's the type of business that you what or like, Mr. Barrett … well, that's up for you to decide. It isn't going to stop the flow of customers I have coming in here every day to hear what they want to hear. That's just facts."

"Yes, well, it's still wrong and you ..." He trailed off then, his own name registering in his head. What the hell? "How did you know my name?"

"You can find out a lot by looking at the contents in a man's wallet," And with that, Katie Lea lifted up Wade's wallet, a sly grin on her face as she watched the look of shock grow on the Englishman's face. "Before you say anything, relax. I'm not a thief … well, besides taking people's money to give lies as you so nicely put it."

"How did you get my wallet?"

"It was rather easy – I reached into your pocket when I touched you and took it."

"Give it here," Wade demanded walking the distance between them in three easy strides, his hand extended waiting for the wallet to be placed in his hand. Thankfully, he didn't have to do much more than that before the wallet was back where it belonged. With his dark green eyes stuck on the woman, Barrett thrusted the wallet deep into his pocket. "Now I don't know what you are playing at, but that is not funny and that better not happen again or I will be calling the authorities."

"Now that the pleasantries are behind us, you have yet to answer my question, Mr. Barrett," Katie Lea said, walking past Wade, taking her seat behind the crystal ball. She looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to finally take a seat. When he didn't, though, she continued. "What are you looking for?"

Shifting from foot to foot, hating the way she was looking at him, Wade sighed, still unsure of what to think of the woman who was throwing him over a loop. She was so confusing, so mysterious, so everything Wade hated, but at the same time, he found that he couldn't leave, didn't want to leave. She was out of the norm and that was exactly what he had been craving.

"I don't know," It was the truth … or half of the truth. He knew what he wanted, but at the same time, he could never do it. Not only was he too weak, but there was too much history.

Leaning forward, her arms resting on the table before her, Katie Lea shook her head. "You look like a caged tiger ready to break free," When silence was all that she got, Katie Lea took the time to study over the man before her, taking in his appearance. The tattoo on his arm was a clear indicator that it was a spur of the moment decision. He looked too sophisticated to have such a permanent thing. The grease in his hair and the way he was dress showed that he was a businessman, someone of importance. And that was all she really needed. "Someone's trapped in a life they don't want."

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh, please, let's not start the denial. You and I both know that that's what the problem here is. There's no point in starting all of this nonsense when the answer is staring us both in the face. Come now, tell me."

Wade sighed once more and looked irritably at the Rolex that was on his wrist. Before he even had the chance to stop himself, he opened his mouth and let it out, finding that it felt very good to just let loose and not give a damn about the consequences for once. "I'm married and I'm not happy."

"So why not just leave?"

"I still love her. She's my best friend."

"That, my friend, is your mistake."

"What are you talking about?"

"Come on, no one marries their best friend and expects things to be perfect for them. Honestly, where did you think it'll go? Let me guess – you were both wild and spontaneous, you did everything together, regardless of the decisions you had or the chaos that ensued because of it. You were free to do what you want and you both fell in love, because of it. Correct?"

It was becoming a habit of his, but once again, his mouth fell open, staring at the woman in complete shock, unable to believe that she had gotten what he had been trying to get his wife to realize in minutes. And she was stranger, no doubt! It was bizarre, but Wade found himself slowly walking towards the vacant chair adjacent her, waiting for her to continue – _needing_ her to continue.

"You thought that you would grow old with this woman the same way, but the second you got hitched, things slowly changed. The job came first then the friends. Of course there is plenty of quality time, but it's not at all what you want. You want to be that same spontaneous guy she fell in love with and the other way around, but that's obviously not happening. She wants to play house while you want to live."

"How were you able to get all of that?" Wade finally asked his mouth still wide open in shock.

"It's not that hard to figure out, Mr. Barrett, especially with your gaping. "

"What am I supposed to do?"

She smirked, leaning back in her seat, her arms crossing as she shrugged. "Why should I be the one to answer your questions? I'm nothing but a thief, remember?"

Rolling his eyes, Wade leaned in closer, the annoyance clear in his voice. "Just tell me what I need to do to be happy."

"You want to find a way to stay with the woman and be spontaneous, to regain your old self in some fashion. We'll start now," Katie stood up and leaned over the crystal ball, her cleavage on full display for Wade. "Stand up, Mr. Barrett, and kiss me."

* * *

><p><em>Wow, I really suck for not updating this in a month! I'm really sorry about that, guys! <em>

_I've put a poll on my profile, so please go and vote for me! The question is self-explanatory, so it's all up to you! _


	5. Sanctuary

_ Thanks – __**FansofCenaton**__, __**m. j's place**__, __**ParkAvenue**__, __**TheBlackerTheBerry**__, and __**Bravada**__ – for reviews! I love reading them!_

* * *

><p>~ <span>Chapter 5 – Sanctuary<span> ~

* * *

><p><em>It's a place that's available to you when nowhere else will accept you … it's a place that'll protect you and look after you when the world is falling apart. There's no other safe place, no other haven that'll keep you enclosed in the comforting walls, no other room that can keep the harshness and the hate out. You find yourself searching for this place, doing all that you can to find and keep it, because, when it comes right down to it … it's the only place in the world that will be available to you when the world breaks away and you're left all alone.<em>

-x- -x- -x- -x- -x-

It had been years before Candice Michelle returned to Saints Ville, and the more she thought about it, the more she wished she hadn't come at all. The town brought back memories that haunted her every waking second, making it nearly impossible for her to forget. She couldn't stop the scene from replaying over and over and over again, and every time it did, Candice couldn't get the expressions of her friends and loved ones out of her mind. She could practically feel the judgment and accusation rolling off of them in waves. Leaving Saints Ville, Candice had thought all of her past and all of her troubles would stay behind, but that was only wishful thinking. No matter where she went – San Francisco, Chicago, New York City, Tokyo – her past followed and wouldn't leave her.

Coming back hadn't been because she wanted to. Walking into the Saints Hospital with an anxious expression across her countenance, Candice knew that what she was doing was something she _needed_ to do. After all, what were sisters for if they weren't always there for each other, no matter what trials and tribulations they had been through together?

"Can I help you?" A young woman asked when she walked up to the counter. The smile on her pretty face was comforting and friendly, and despite what she was feeling, the brunette couldn't help but smile back in return.

"Yes, I'm here to see my sister, Eve Torres."

"Oh, Dr. Orton has been expecting you. Unfortunately, he's not here right now, but you're more than welcome to see her. I'll show you the way," The name of the helpful nurse – as shown on her name plate – was Alicia. Walking around the counter after collecting a folder, the kind woman offered yet another comforting smile before motioning for her to follow.

Taking a deep breath, Candice prepared herself for what was to come before following after Alicia. She didn't know what to expect. The only thing the answering machine said was that Eve was in a car accident and that she was needed at the Saints Hospital, that she was the only emergency contact Eve had on record. That fact alone shocked the brunette when she first listened to the message. After the harsh words and the actions that could never be erased, Candice was still the only person on her emergency contact list?

"How did Dr. Orton know I'd show up?" Candice found herself asking. That had been the next question on her mind as she made her way down the hallway. It had been weeks since she received that message and she only arrived in Saints Ville yesterday.

"The good doctor has this sort of intuition about him," Alicia laughed. "He just knew you were going to come."

After giving a small smile, Candice ducked her head and nodded, feeling a bit guilty. What kind of a person was she when she didn't jump on a plane right that second to come to a sister in need? She felt stupid for thinking about the fear of her past coming back then how her own sister was doing. Hell, she even visited a friend before even stepping foot inside of the hospital! She wouldn't be surprised if Eve kicked her out right then and there after getting a good look at her.

"Alright, here we are," Alicia finally said, coming to a stop right in front of Room 618. Opening the folder, the red headed woman looked through the contents before looking up at Candice. "Your sister is a very lucky woman. Besides cuts and bruises, she has a broken leg. The accident could have been a lot worse."

"Oh, thank God," Candice said, realizing that she had been holding her breath while the nurse was talking. She put a hand to her forehead and smiled. "That's good. That's really good."

The look on Alicia's face, however, brought back a lot of the worry, but before Candice could ask any more questions, the nurse continued speaking.

"She is getting very healthy. She's responding to the medication very well, but she's still unconscious."

Blinking, Candice furrowed her brow. "She's been here two weeks …"

"The doctor is on a lunch break. Why don't you go in there and sit with your sister and I'll send Dr. Orton right in when he gets back."

Nodding her head, Candice watched as Alicia made her way back down the hallway, her head in a million places. She didn't want to go into the room, not alone. She didn't want to be alone in her thoughts, knowing that it'd be the only thing the brunette would focus on, consuming her, and accusing her. But this was her sister and she had been waiting for so long. Taking a deep breath, determination flowing through her, Candice lifted her head up and pushed open the door, only to come to a halt.

Sitting on the chair that was angled in the bed's direction – a chair where _she_ was supposed to be sitting – was a man …

He jumped to his feet the second the door opened, realizing immediately that the woman who walked through wasn't a doctor or a nurse. Standing there – one looked shocked while the other looked anxious – the two people had absolutely no idea what to do or what to even say. The silence was getting to be too much for the brunette, and she couldn't help but take a step forward, her eyes going from Justin to the woman lying in the bed.

"Who are you?"

"I …" Justin stumbled over his words, his thoughts a complete jumble as he tried to figure out just what to say to the woman who walked into the room. He had no idea who she was, had no idea why she was even there, but something told him to tread carefully, that she wasn't someone to be riffled with. "I'm Eve's friend …"

Nodding her head slowly, Candice took another step forward, moving towards the other side of the bed, the unoccupied side. Her eyes never left the strange man's. "I have never seen you before."

"You're never around, though, are you?" Justin shot back. He had no idea why he said it, what spurred on him to say it, but just as he was about to apologize for how rough it sounded, Justin couldn't help but take note at how her eyes immediately dropped from his. "What's your name?"

"Candice," She answered, looking back up at the man with fresh tears in her eyes. She did nothing to conceal them or to stop them from falling down her face.

"I'm Justin."

She nodded once more, her dark brown eyes shifting over to Eve's still body, a lump in her throat rising and rising. She slowly sank down to her knees at the sight of her sister, the fear and sadness inside of her growing with each second. A shaky hand reaching over, Candice gently took a hold of her sister's limp one. The tears immediately fall the second contact was initiated.

"What's wrong with her?" Candice gasped as she tried to get past the wave of emotions that collided into her. She sobbed, tearing her gaze from Eve to look back at Justin. "Why won't she wake up?"

He felt hopeless. Not only was he guilty for causing the accident, but he immediately felt at fault for causing this woman to cry, to feel so much sadness. He was guilty for not coming out and telling her that it was his fault. He felt guilty for trying to find an excuse to cover what he so desperately wanted hidden.

"I don't know."

* * *

><p>Sitting on the plush cushion, Maria Kannellis drew out a shaky breath as she wrung her fingers together, needing something to do with them. For the life of her, even after all those years, the scars from her abusive – or that's how the therapist described it even though <em>he<em> never laid a hand on her out of anger – past had never healed properly, never dissipated as the time grew longer and longer. Without the right outlet, as Maria discovered, her past and fear would never leave her. It would continue to haunt her until the fight within the redhead died.

She thought she was over it, though. Granted, it had been just a few years, Maria had thought she should have been able to get a better handle over things. Obviously not and, as she sat there with her leg crossed over another and a frown on her face, the redhead couldn't help but wonder if she ever would.

Maria sighed and looked up, peering at the only other person in the room. Jack Swagger was staring back at her with a worried look on his face. Though against his wishes, the redhead was successful in convincing Jack to take over her case, to help her get through the black cloud that was always hanging over her head, despite the impressive façade that was put in place. Jack had refused, of course, claiming that it would be unprofessional, a conflict of interest, but in the end, he resided in the fact that he was the only person who Maria would ever talk to.

"You're nervous," Jack finally said. It was a statement and not a question, and when she looked up with a startled expression plastered across her face, the therapist knew that he had brought her out of her thoughts. "Why?"

"I don't know," Maria shrugged, turning her gaze back down to her hands. Her answer was truthful. She had no idea why she was so nervous and anxious to talk about what had happened to her. It was just hard – finally admitting to a problem that she had been too stubborn to talk about for years, seeking help for the problem after years of trying to figure it all out on her own. It was tough. "I just … I haven't seen him since the day I left and came here to Saints Ville. I haven't spoken to him, communicated with him … and it just feels like I've never really escaped him. There's this presence, this feeling that he's not as far away as I thought he was."

Nodding his head and, after jotting down a few notes, Jack placed the notepad back down on the table beside him and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned closer to his friend. It was now one of the many times Jack wished he hadn't agreed to this. Sometimes he had a problem with keeping his professionalism and his friendship with Maria separate, especially when she was dealing with something as big as CM Punk. Oh, he had heard the story before, knew what he used to do to her, and it burned him up inside. The problem was determining why she was having such a hard time forgetting the man and moving on, why she couldn't just keep the past behind her and get on with her life. The last few months were difficult for her, since the fear suddenly intensified to the point where she had actually ran to his house in the middle of the night in tears.

Clearing his throat, Jack spoke. "Fear is a good thing, Maria, no matter what the situation. He was a bad guy and you were smart enough to get away from him."

"But that doesn't explain why I can't shake the feeling that he's watching me."

"Have you … have you ever considered the fact that maybe you're getting a little paranoid, because of the fear?" Jack questioned hesitantly. He didn't want to upset her. He wanted nothing more than to understand her and to agree with her, but they were in his setting, his world. He had to be the professional she was paying him for, not her friend.

"Of course, I've thought of that. I've tried everything – tried to ignore the feeling, tried to think of something else, tried to picture myself somewhere else. Nothing is working and I have no idea why. I mean, am I going crazy or something? Am I losing my mind and this is the only thing that I'll be thinking of for the rest of my life while I'm stuck in some mental hospital strapped to a bed, getting pumped full of medication?" Maria rambled, her mind going in several directions as she tried to blink away the tears that were trying to blind her. She felt a hand atop of hers and she suddenly found herself several times calmer than she was just a few seconds ago.

"Maria, I promise you … you're _not_ going crazy," Jack reassured his voice full of the calmness and awareness that Maria only wished she possessed. He squeezed the hand he was currently holding before letting up. He leaned back slightly, searching her eyes. "We aren't going to do this anymore."

Blinking once more in confusion, Maria furrowed her brows and shook her head slowly. "I don't … understand. What do you mean we aren't going to do this anymore?" And as if a light bulb turned on in her head, Maria's hand lurched forward, grabbing a hold of Jack's, stopping him from moving away even more. "No! Jack, you need to help me. You need to get me straight! I can't deal with this, please; you've got to help me!"

"Relax!" Jack couldn't help but chuckle some as he laid his hand over hers once more, slowly feeling as the tension drained from her body, though her eye remained as alert and as focused as she stared back at him, those dark green eyes wide with fear. "I'm still going to help you – just not here. Come on, let's go get a bite to eat, settle those nerves down some."

Standing up, Jack helped Maria to her feet before handing her the beige jacket she left on the coat rack when the session first started. Holding the door open for her, Jack followed the redhead out, his heart warming when his friend sent him a grateful smile. Though he had no idea how to help her, he was going to do everything in his power to erase the pain and the fear she was experiencing and allow the happiness and joy to flood through her once more. It was once there, it would come again, and Jack was sure that he would make sure it stayed there permanently.

* * *

><p>She was crying, the mascara running down Maryse Ouellet's face, staining her tears and cheeks. Her heart was thundering inside her chest so much, in fact, that she could hear it in her ears. The French-Canadian had no idea how long she had been running, only knew that she needed to get to <em>his<em> house. She needed _his_ comfort to make her nightmares settle.

_ When the front door opened to her penthouse apartment, Maryse couldn't help but feel those butterflies fluttering about in her stomach. Even after – how long had it been again – a year of dating, the beautiful blonde couldn't get over how lucky she was to be around him, to have him in her life. Of course, like any other couple, they had their differences. They fought, the argued, they ignored each other, and they questioned what they were even doing together, but like the committed couple they were, they always found a way back to each other, always found a way to make it work. _

_ The second Ted DiBiase Jr. walked into the room, Maryse quickly made her way over to him – or as fast as her five inch heels would allow her to go – wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him down into a passionate kiss. _

_ "Hello, handsome," Maryse purred, her French accent pronounced as she kissed him on the cheek, her fingers massaging the back of his head as she stared deep into his cerulean eyes. "I missed you so much."_

A sob escaped through her lips as she turned the corner, running down the sidewalk, ignoring all of the people she passed, ignoring all of the rude comments when she bumped into them in her haste to get to _him_. She tried to be everything to Ted, tried to do everything she possible could think of to make him happy. Nothing seemed to work, though. Sometimes he was the perfect boyfriend, the perfect gentleman. Other times – like tonight – he was a monster, a cold, cruel monster that didn't care about her feelings.

_"Doesn't surprise me," Ted growled, unwrapping himself from her clingy grasp. Pushing her away from him – the French Canadian stumbling and almost losing her balance in her five inch heels – the younger DiBiase sibling made his way further into the apartment, a scowl marking his features. "Can I at least walk through the fucking door before you cling yourself to me!"_

_ Blinking back in response to his cold voice, Maryse took a moment to swallow the lump in her throat, to just roll the insult off and put a smile on her face. He just had a bad day … that was all … "I'm sorry, darling. Can I get you anything?"_

_ "Maryse, give me five minutes, please."_

_ Shaking his head angrily, his face flushed with visible fury, Ted smacked a pile of books from the nearby table onto the floor, the hardcover books falling to the floor, making a thumping sound as they connected to the hardwood flooring. Looking down at the books, all lying haphazardly on the ground, Maryse remained where she was at until Ted stormed into their bedroom, slamming the door shut so hard, not only did the French Canadian flinch, but the windows shook in their place. She didn't notice the tear trailing down her cheek until it dripped from her face, landing on her hand. There couldn't be any crying, though. That displayed weakness, and that was something Ted DiBiase Jr. couldn't stand. Making her way slowly over to the mirror that was hanging over the credenza, Maryse pulled a tissue out of the box that was sitting against the wall, and wiped the tear streak, only to find that there were several more streaks that she hadn't noticed or felt. _

Maryse knew without a doubt that she loved Ted. There was something about him that just called to her, cementing her fate along with his. They had so much in common – the same problems, the same questions. No matter what, it was like they could always find their way to each other, always be the only person that could provide some type of comfort when the rest of the world was so cold.

When Ted acted like _that_, though … well, it make Maryse feel like she was all alone, that she was screaming, but no one was there to hear her.

With her heels still smacking against the sidewalk as she continued running through the city, Maryse turned another corner and made her way down, the small house in plain sight, only a few meters away. With the ground below her cracked and unstable, it wasn't surprising that the French Canadian fell, her heels no match for the unsteady ground. And for a moment, Maryse did nothing but lay there, the tears falling down her face while she concentrated on the physical pain, trying to ignore the emotional one. When a light from her peripheral vision flickered on, Maryse looked up and saw _his_ silhouette, her saviour. She had to get to _him_. In _his _comfort and in _his_ arms, she'd be alright.

Crawling to her knees and finally to her feet, kicking off the heels that were getting in her way, Maryse made her way to the house, the only thing her eyes rested on was the silhouette standing by the window. _He_ didn't know she was there or that she was coming, but deep down, she knew that _he_ would let her in. _He _couldn't turn her away.

Taking one step at a time, the French Canadian pulled up the several steps, and was found standing in front of the huge black door … _his_ door. Extending her hand, taking a hesitant glance over her shoulder as though she felt eyes on her, Maryse quickly balled her fist up and slammed it into the door four or five times, her heart racing the longer she was out in the open, exposed and vulnerable. At first there was nothing, only impending silence. The thought of what could happen to her only made her fear grow, and she found herself pounding on the door once more, praying that _he_ wasn't going to leave her all alone.

"Maryse, stop," The voice sounded, the thick Irish accent meeting her ears, turning her attention from the street to _him_.

Her fear was getting the best of her, trapping her in an endless cycle of pain and undeniable terror. The second _his_ warm hands wrapped around her and brought her closer, however, the fear faded and the shaking subsided as she found herself getting lost in _his_ warmth.

"What happened?" Stephen 'Sheamus' Farrelly asked, his voice low as he ran his hand up and down her bare arms, trying to warm the woman up. It wasn't the first time Maryse Ouellet ran to him and, as periodic as it happened, the Irishman found himself getting all the more worried.

"Please, I …" She whimper, unable to finish the sentence as another shiver crept up her spine. She knew someone was watching her. "Please don't leave me alone. I'm so scared."

"Never, love," Pulling her into the house, Stephen closed the door.

_ The alcohol on his breath was nauseating, but Maryse merely smiled at her man, holding her breath as she filled up his whiskey glass. He only drank when he was really upset or angry – now being the perfect example. And though she knew that he never meant what he said to her, it still never ceased to shock her at how hateful and uncaring his words were. _

_ "More, more," Ted growled, reaching over and grabbing her wrist, spilling even more alcohol into the cup. When he had as much as he wanted, the younger DiBiase sibling pushed the French Canadian away from him, not knowing of his strength until Maryse crashed into the nearby table, dropping the bottle of whiskey and falling to the floor. "God, you are such a fucking mess."_

_ Her body shaking, Maryse slowly pulled a small shard of glass out of her palm, wincing at the pain. "That hurt, Ted …"_

_ "Hurt? You want to know about hurt?" Shaking his head, his lips curling up into a mean snarl, Ted climbed to his feet and towered over his girlfriend, his fist tightening around the glass he held. "Hurt is when you're all alone in the world. Hurt is when no one cares about you. Hurt is when your own father doesn't give a damn about you and only wants his first son! Do you really want to talk about hurt, Maryse, when you haven't even experienced it!"_

_ She said nothing, only flinched when Ted threw his glass against the wall. He fell to his knees then, his expression somber, but with the dazed look in his eyes, Maryse knew that he had no idea what he was doing. _

_ "You're all I have right now, Ryse. I don't know how I'd go on if you weren't here with me. Don't ever hurt me, Maryse … not like they have," He reached up and ran a hand down the side of her face, wiping away some of the tears from her damp cheek. "I couldn't live if I didn't have you. I'd probably kill myself … but only after I killed you."_

* * *

><p>I'm so sorry for the long wait. Hopefully, you guys are still here. Please review and let me know what you think! This is probably not one of my better chapters. I did rush the last section, but I'll let you be the judge of that.<p> 


End file.
